


Teenage Dirtbags

by saturninesunshine



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, I hope, bellamy and murphy are bffs, not the fic, shitty garage band au, the garage band is shitty, they are in high school
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4210314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturninesunshine/pseuds/saturninesunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It all started when fellow delinquent John Murphy threw himself through what he thought was Bellamy’s window with a bloody nose. It was actually Octavia’s room and Bellamy would have been inclined to beat the living pulp out of Murphy but this happened to be at the exact moment when his mom’s new boyfriend had been trying to sneak into his little sister’s room for the third time that week."</p>
<p>Murphy and Bellamy start a garage band. Everyone hates them because they are awful. The community bans together because really, who doesn't want to see two teenage dirtbags making fools of themselves with instruments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Add It Up

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a project that was in the making for a very long time. Initially only supposed to be a one-shot, this has obviously become a monstrosity. This is only my second the 100 fan fic and my first ever Bellarke so keep that in mind. I've released some excerpts on Tumblr only because it took so long. But this is a passion project. 
> 
> When the fic is finished, a playlist will be released.
> 
> All lyrics belong to designated artists and also should be noted are the songs that Bellamy's band plays. They are eclectic and bad and weird. Enjoy.

Bellamy Blake felt a little like Ethan Hawke in _Reality Bites_. There was no universe where Bellamy Blake ever wanted to feel like Ethan Hawke. It all started when fellow delinquent John Murphy threw himself through what he thought was Bellamy’s window with a bloody nose. It was actually Octavia’s room and Bellamy would have been inclined to beat the living pulp out of Murphy but this happened to be at the exact moment when his mom’s new boyfriend had been trying to sneak into his little sister’s room for the third time that week. Murphy may have been a useless anger management case that Bellamy had met in detention when he was a sophomore during Murphy’s first infraction freshman year, but after that, he sort of felt like he kind of owed Murphy a place to stay.

His mom’s boyfriend left the house with a dislocated shoulder and while Bellamy had been hesitant to trust Murphy to live in his house for the time being, he couldn’t deny that the kid had style. He didn’t need to hear about his home life with his mother. Bellamy had a million stories just like Murphy’s. Octavia also had a thing for Murphy’s friend Adam and there was really nothing that Bellamy could do about that. It was better the devil you knew.

And besides. Murphy was known to hang around Finn Collins and whether he liked the longhaired hippie or not, Finn also happened to be friends with Bellamy’s lab partner Clarke Griffin. Uptight and bourgeoisie she might be, but he couldn’t help but think that might come in handy one day.

The garage band came in later. Bellamy thought the idea probably came about more out of necessity than anything else. Murphy didn’t want to be home and Bellamy couldn’t begrudge him that.

That being said, Bellamy was not a fan out of the outcome. He had a reputation to uphold and playing bass in a shitty garage band was not helping him. But when he saw Octavia double over in laughter after hearing them practice in the Blake’s garage for the first time, he decided to be the best damn bassist the stupid town of Mt. Weather, Washington had ever seen.

Ethan Hawke be damned.

 

_Day after day, I get angry, and I will say_

_That the day is in my sight_

_When I take a bow and say goodnight_

_-_ The Violent Femmes


	2. Drunken Lament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Clarke and Raven were walking up the street towards the Blake house when police sirens were already screeching. Sherriff Kane had his megaphone out and Clarke saw Bellamy Blake with his bass still strapped to his back running in the opposite direction of his own house with John Murphy close behind."

_I drink more than a sailor on shore, pour the rum in my eyes, tell me lies_

_-Ludo_

The town of Mt. Weather was a very small community. Once a rural town in Maryland basically in the middle of nowhere, it flourished to the somewhat populated area it was today after founders realized there needed to be a high school in the town limits.   

There were many reasons why Clarke Griffin was not going out tonight. Ever since her best friend Wells Jaha had moved away there was really no incentive to do anything fun. On top of the fact of her recent humiliation, she really couldn’t find a reason to go out.

Raven was a different story. Their shared experience had brought them closer together which made Raven want to party. On the surface, it would seem like the two girls had nothing in common. That changed quickly.

As it so happened, Clarke had no interest in seeing Bellamy Blake outside of school, let alone going to his house in the sketchy part of town for a party where they would be forced to listen to his weird band. She had heard that it was less like The Pixies and more like a squalling bear cub. With no drummer. Even if they had played at Carnegie Hall, she had enough of his smug face in class as it was.

“You want to sit around the house all day? Or do you want to have fun?” 

By fun, Clarke was sure that Raven meant get shitfaced, but to each their own. They all grieved differently. And Clarke wasn’t about to let Raven go to Bellamy Blake’s house alone. As confident as Raven was in her own abilities, there was no denying that there was strength in numbers.  And if Finn did decide to make a guest appearance, Clarke couldn’t very well let her best friend go in there alone.

In the end, she really shouldn’t have worried herself. Clarke and Raven were walking up the street towards the Blake house when police sirens were already screeching. Sherriff Kane had his megaphone out and Clarke saw Bellamy Blake with his bass still strapped to his back running in the opposite direction of his own house with John Murphy close behind. 

Some Friday night.

Clarke looked at the kid that was in the back of Sherriff Kane’s car. She definitely recognized him from the stint she did in after school detention (her offense: skipping class with Wells.) 

Nate Miller was in the back seat and surreptitiously slid out of the car while the sheriff was occupied with restraining Octavia Blake. Clarke was well aware this was a con the Blake siblings had come up while they were both in middle school. Octavia was always the distraction when Bellamy needed to get away.

Mt. Weather was a small community.

* * *

 

Murphy was winded. Due to personal experience, Bellamy didn’t really think now was the time to stop running from the cops. They still had a ways to go to get out of running distance. But then he heard the laughter behind him and realized Murphy wasn’t tired from running. Bellamy let Murphy’s laughs wash over him and allowed himself a smile. As much as he hated to admit it, that was fun.

He had thought he had seen a flash of blonde hair highlighted with red and blue screaming lights but that could have just been adrenaline.

“On the plus side it’s probably so late my mom is already passed out.” Murphy didn’t sound dejected. 

“Sorry,” Bellamy offered. It was the best that he could do now that both of their crash pads were out of commission.

There was a snap of a twig from the line of trees they had stopped by. Murphy was immediately on alert while Bellamy only adjusted the strap of his bass. It was getting heavy but there was no way to return it at this point. 

Nate Miller stepped out of the tree line, puffing on a cigarette. “Fun party.”

“Nice of you to join us,” Bellamy said. 

“Blame Kane,” Miller said. “Not me.”

“Picking a cop’s pockets was just too good to pass up, huh,” Murphy replied. 

Miller shrugged. No explanation necessary. “I have a place you can crash if you need.” 

“How charitable,” Murphy said.

Bellamy cast him a warning glance. To the casual observer, Murphy could be an unwarranted antagonist. It was hard for people like them to accept help when they had gone their entire lives without it. 

Then Bellamy had an idea. “Can you play the drums?”

Miller shrugged. 

That was good enough for the two of them.

* * *

The drums made it better, Clarke observed. But not by much. Miller’s technique consisted of banging the stick to the drum in time to Murphy’s attempt at strumming. Not that Clarke was an expert in instrument technique but it was pretty clear that everyone would have to be drunk to enjoy it. Which everyone obviously was.

She could at least be thankful that Bellamy’s sensibilities didn’t divert more towards punk like she would have thought. Considering that high schoolers would probably be the only audience _Psychotic Militia_ were ever to have, that was a blessing. Nate Miller’s house seemed a better fit. The party hadn’t been broken up yet and Clarke had found some sort of homemade moonshine Octavia Blake was passing around. She found that she could definitely enjoy the music better after a swig or two. (Or five.) Was the room starting to spin or was that just her?

If she has to make a defined statement on the whole night, she could say with some confidence that Bellamy was the best of the bunch. Murphy would intermittently stop playing his guitar so he could sing, but Bellamy’s bassline seemed he most consistent.

Maybe the room really was spinning. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought that Bellamy Blake had thrown her a casual grin from the front of the room. Teenagers were jostling to the music while not really listening to it.

“Having a good night?” Bellamy was obscured by Raven’s face. 

“They’re not very good, are they?” Clarke asked. 

“Oh no,” Raven said. “They’re trash. But at least we can all admit that.” 

Clarke had to admit that this wasn’t the worst time. It made her feel guilty. This wasn’t the type of scene she and Wells were used to. But he had to go to Seattle for his mother’s health. Maybe he was having a better time than she was anyway. 

Clarke’s ears were ringing so much she hadn’t realized Psychotic Militia’s set was over until Bellamy’s hand steadied her shoulder by the drink table. She found herself leaning into his touch for no particular reason but for the fact that she might lose her balance. But instead of looking into a cavalier grin, she found dark, penetrating eyes filled with concern.

“I’m not going to throw up,” Clarke said defensively. 

Bellamy’s laugh was so full of genuine mirth that Clarke couldn’t help but appreciate it. Somehow, his smugness had vanished, despite the fact that there were hordes of underclassmen gazing at his complete lack of prowess. She thought about how he claimed it was sexual chemistry. She had to stop her eyes from rolling back into her head.

“Not the girl from biology class,” Bellamy observed, knocking back his jungle juice. Clarke couldn’t tell if that was worse or better than Monty’s moonshine. “How’s your night been?”

He was talking like they were some kind of talking buddies. He had that weird effect on a lot of people. The most hated and repugnant kid of their class even fell in line with him. 

But Clarke liked to think that she was different.

“It’s okay,” Clarke said. She didn’t really sound like she meant it. “You’re very Troy Dyer up there.”

Bellamy rolled his almond eyes and she felt a wave off antagonism from him.

“It’s from this movie,” Clarke said. She never had to explain to Wells. “About a documentary filmmaker-” 

“I know what _Reality Bites_ is,” Bellamy said. He almost sounded offended. “I’ll try to tone down the Ethan Hawke.” 

“It was a compliment,” Clarke said. She took another drink, finally enjoying the buzzing taste on her tongue. 

Bellamy raised his eyebrows. “You like that whole thing?” 

“What whole thing?” 

“Well you must,” Bellamy said. His eyes had focused over her shoulder.   

“What is that supposed to mean?” Clarke asked. She turned to see Raven. This was just the sort of thing that she had wanted to avoid. But being best friends with the girl your boyfriend juggled you with would cause some attention. 

“You know,” Bellamy said. “That cool kid hair.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Clarke asked archly. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. 

“You tell me.”

“Well it can’t be bad as your playing.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

But Bellamy was smiling. There was something that was so self-aware about Bellamy Blake that she didn’t seem to mind the idea of going to biology.

“Brave princess,” Bellamy said. “I never thought I’d see you in this neck of the woods.” 

“I must be brave to hear you play.” But something was strange about the way he spoke to her. She only realized after he hefted his bass across his back that she liked the way he called her princess. She wasn’t annoyed at all. He didn’t even give her a sick feeling using the nickname originated by someone who had betrayed her.

“I don’t doubt it.”


	3. The Kids Aren't Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s wrong with you?” Murphy asked. “You boyfriend flirting with Clarke Griffin again?”
> 
> “Psychotic Militia is the stupidest band name I have ever heard,” Raven threw back with ease. She brushed past him a little more forcefully than was necessary.
> 
> “We changed the name.” She heard him call after her. “Nice talking to you too.”

Moonshine tasted worse going down than it did coming up. Raven would know. As much as she had promised herself that she wouldn’t go down like her mother, these were desperate times. It almost made the music better. But that was the last thing that was on her mind.

_“Chances thrownNothing’s freeLonging forUsed to beStill it’s hardHard to seeFragile livesShattered dreams.”_ Murphy’s shriek reverberated in the background and Raven felt the nausea rise back up.

It only made her take another swig and head back into the garage. One talent she learned from mommy dearest. She could party with the best of them but she could still feel all the eyes. Even on skid row, a scandal was still a scandal. The fact that she and Clarke would be seen in each other’s company was news at best. At worst - Raven just didn't even want to think about it. 

“Bellamy Blake?” Raven asked dubiously.

She never thought she would catch Clarke watching the bassist that most girls had thrown their tops at one point or another.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

“We’ve both had that look,” Raven said. “If you want to go through that again, be my guest.”

Remorse flooded Clarke’s face. Raven was used to incurring that sort of reaction. The more she did it, the more she regretted it. She didn’t mean to. It just came naturally. 

“Are you okay?” Clarke asked. There was that privileged concern she had again. Raven noticed that Clarke cared more than most. If she were anyone else, Raven probably never would have become friends with her after everything that had happened. In a way, she couldn’t really blame Finn. No one could really help liking Clarke. 

What she could blame him was for being dishonest. But Clarke was so genuine and so caring Raven really couldn’t hate her for it either. But when it came to her own dishonesty, she really wasn’t prepared to tell her anything. Not just yet. The situation was too loaded. She was sure that Clarke would handle it with as much grace as she did with everything else in her life. That was what made it that much harder.

“Fine,” Raven said shortly. It was easy for conversations to get lost in the caterwauling of the shitty band. Never would Raven ever use to word caterwauling in sentence, but Bellamy Blake’s band seemed to merit it. Clarke opened her mouth as if to try and continue the conversation but it was useless. Murphy’s voice had cut in and there was no hearing anything anyone had to say after that. 

Raven felt more bile rise up. She really hoped that had to do with the music than anything else.

She ran to the bathroom.

Eventually she realized that she had been in there so long it seemed abysmal music had even stopped. A part of her didn’t want to leave. Leaving would mean admitting the truth to herself. She would settle for rifling through the Blakes’ medicine cabinet. She wasn’t surprised to find Paxil prescribed to Blake, Aurora. 

Even the sweet judgment she allowed herself didn’t last long. The test was still in her bag and Clarke would be looking for her soon. If she hadn’t run off with the charming if talentless bassist. Everyone always seemed to fall for Clarke. Raven’s boyfriend, that hipster girl from summer camp, even Clarke’s best friend wasn’t shy about his obvious crush. 

She still couldn’t hate her. Right now, Clarke seemed to be the only one that cared about Raven. Biting the bullet was the only way Raven knew how to live. In ninety seconds or less, she would have her answer.

Raven came hurtling out of the bathroom. As if the night couldn’t get any worse, John Murphy happened to be lurking by the bathroom, causing her to crash right into him. Not knowing what else to do as they both ricocheted in different directions, she used to opportunity to stash the test in her purse while he was distracted. The last thing she needed was Murphy blackmailing her. 

“What are you doing here?” Raven snapped.

Murphy looked up as if he hadn’t even known she was standing there.

“I live here.” His big, stupid eyes blinked at her as if they were both in on some sort of inside joke like they were actually joking friends.

“This is Bellamy Blakes’ house.” 

“Yeah,” Murphy said as though it were a definitive answer. It was an impressive feat that two closed off people like them could have a conversation at all. 

Murphy had finally righted himself and she finally had to admit to herself that he wasn’t there to make her uncomfortable. There were guitar strings on the ground next to an old guitar leaning against the wall. Up close it looked old. An antique. Up close, she thought she could see the shadow of a bruise on Murphy’s cheek. Probably one of those stoner kids he pissed off again. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Murphy asked. “You boyfriend flirting with Clarke Griffin again?”

“Psychotic Militia is the stupidest band name I have ever heard,” Raven threw back with ease. She brushed past him a little more forcefully than was necessary.

“We changed the name.” She heard him call after her. “Nice talking to you too.”

Clarke was waiting in the driver’s seat of Raven’s car. If she had been anyone else, Raven would have been annoyed. No one drove her car but her. And sometimes her mother when she had one too many. But this was only a caring gesture on Clarke’s part. Raven knew that and tonight, she appreciated it.

Raven slid into the car and Clarke started the engine. They didn’t speak until they were several neighborhoods over and too close to Raven’s house to argue.

“What’s the new band name?”

Clarke continued to stare at the road, trees flying past the window.

“Bellamy and his punks,” Raven elaborated.

There it was. That little flicker across Clarke’s face. “Teenage Dirtbags,” Clarke said. That little smile was still there. 

It wasn’t any better than Psychotic Militae. But it was a fitting name to say the least. 

“Bellamy Blake tell you that?” Raven asked, commanding her tone to be playful. This time, Clarke did toss her a glance. The smile was gone. Raven’s attempt at distracting from the situation wasn’t working. She could tell that already.

“What’s the prognosis?” Clarke asked.

Raven didn’t ask how Clarke knew. That was the first time she had acknowledged that Clarke might actually be her best friend. And that meant something. Clarke’s mother was a doctor and Raven would be lying if she said she hadn’t been caught acting strangely several times that week.

“Positive,” Raven answered. She then added unnecessarily, “it’s Finn’s.” 

As if it could ever be anyone else’s.

* * *

It was that part of the week where Murphy had to make his dreaded trek home. Not to the Blakes’ who were still suffering his presence for god knows why. They had their own issues to deal with. But Murphy’s mother had left him a drunken and rambling voicemail and he had no choice but to go home to face her.

He waited until Raven Reyes’ car peeled out of the driveway to make his escape. He could count on Bellamy being off his game and not asking him or caring where he was going. Bellamy was usually highly observant but Murphy couldn’t help but notice ever since Clarke Griffin had showed up to one of their gigs, he had been off. It seemed a little cliché that Bellamy would be the victim of unrequited love, but to each their own.

The floorboards of the old inherited house creaked beneath Murphy’s feet. Even as a kid he would always close his eyes as he passed the foyer. After his father died, his mother took the family photographs off the wall. There was still a shadow of where the frame had been for so many years.

With each step, Murphy felt stronger. That is until he could smell Mrs. Murphy. The vodka was strong but he was relieved this time that there was no vomit. That made it a little easier to stomach. The best-case scenario was that she would be unconscious on the couch.

He did a sweep of the living room. He almost made it.

“Jonathan.” 

It made him cringe. His father had been a nickname person. No one had called him Alexander. It was always Alex. But he was gone. And his mother had been calling him by his full Christian name more and more. John felt the familiar twinge of that Irish guilt, but as he had gotten so good at doing, he pushed it all the way down until nothing remained.

“In this light you really look like him,” she remarked. 

So it was one of those nights. Her words were slurred. He braced himself for the worst. It was always better when Alex Murphy went on without being mentioned.

“But it never works,” she rasped hoarsely into the darkness. “You’re not him. You can’t put it back together.” 

Flashbacks paired with waxing philosophical. His favorite Friday night.

“He never would have looked at me like that,” she said, sitting up on the couch. Her breath was full of rotting bitterness. What his father would or what not have done was irrelevant at this point. “That accusing and proud look you always have."

Murphy never looked proud. How could he when he had no pride to begin with? It was just easier to go by his last name. His first just brought up all of this baggage.

“Don’t you miss your mother?” she asked.

_Here we go._

“Hey, at least you noticed I was gone,” Murphy said. 

Her sigh was full of pain. There was a time where he would have felt remorse. But she wiped that out of him years ago. 

“Why do you always have to fight me, John?” she asked. “You always make everything so difficult.”

There was a time when he would have fought for her validation. Not anymore. He had finally learned. It always took awhile, but he was pretty sure that he had it by now.

“Of course,” Murphy said. “It’s always my fault.”

“You always have to be so hostile,” she said. “I only ever wanted to take care of you. You’re my only son. It took me a long time to realize that you made it impossible to love you.” 

If he was lucky that would be the worst of it. He had faced nights that made this one seem like a dream. And he would again, he was sure. 

“Well if that’s all for tonight, Mom,” Murphy said.

She was on her feet so fast that he thought maybe the drunk thing was an act. But she was always functional, if a total mess.

“It should have been you,” she said.

“I know,” he answered plainly. That was all he ever could say to her. 

“I put a roof over your head.” 

“I can recite the rest on my own, thanks,” Murphy said. “Roof over your head, food in your belly. What more could I ask for? Right, Mom?” 

The hit came hard and fast and it was over before he knew what had happened. The pain would come later, he knew. He could already feel the bruise blooming. She went back to her place on the couch. She wouldn’t wake up until the morning. If he was lucky, she wouldn’t remember he was here at all. 

Murphy was sitting on the curb down the street from his house when Octavia found him. If Bellamy knew half the things his little sister got into in the night, he would be surprised. She sat down next to him, not saying a word. Her look conveyed everything.

“ _What_?” Murphy growled. That familiar metallic taste rolled down the back of his throat. He would never want Octavia Blake to see him like this. He would never be caught dead being seen like this by anyone. Only his mother had that pleasure, but here was little Octavia. At least she wasn’t Bellamy.

Octavia cast him an exasperated look with those stupidly empathetic eyes of hers.  “Why do you bother?”

Murphy rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. Blood smeared across his luminous skin in the moonlight. “What does that mean?” 

“Bellamy’s your friend,” Octavia said. “You’re lucky that you have him.” 

“Yeah,” Murphy said. “Real lucky.”

“It’s better than whatever is waiting for you in that house,” Octavia said.

That was it for the night. He watched her retreating form flounce off into the night, not a care in the world. So like a Blake. Dropping wisdom like that and going off to do something worse. So mysterious and perfect, those Blakes. Sometimes, he really hated them.

 

_Now the neighborhood is cracked and torn_  
_The kids are grown up but their lives are worn_  
_How can one little street  
_ _Swallow so many lives_

**_\--The Offspring_ **


	4. I Miss You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know those could kill you,” Clarke said.
> 
> It took him a moment to realize what he had done unconsciously. This was generally considered the smoking patio for those of age (not that it mattered because most kids did it anyway.) He must have had some Pavlovian response to being on the patio. In any other setting, he wouldn’t have thought about lighting up around Clarke Griffin.
> 
> Not because he cared what she thought. Not even. He didn’t care what anyone thought. But it was too late to think about that now. 
> 
> “They do?” Bellamy asked, aghast. She should have expected such a reaction. “Wait. Are you sure?” 
> 
> “Pretty positive.” 
> 
> “You should really send out a memo,” Bellamy said. “Our government should hear about this.” 
> 
> Clarke just continued smiling.

Bellamy and Murphy had never really been on the same page. Yes, they had shared experiences. Yes, they had similar chips on their shoulders. But when it came to honest to god leadership, they might as well have been on other sides of the planet. Murphy had always been unrepentant about who he was, even when – or especially when – what he was happened to be a piece of shit. (His words more than anyone else’s.)

Bellamy on the other hand had always been trying to validate himself in the eyes of someone who never cared to know him or be in his life. In that regard, he and Murphy were complete opposites.

Bellamy and Murphy both happened to love Blink 182. It was the one thing that made them understand each other and as corny and stupid as it was, it made them have balance in whatever way that made sense. Which wasn’t really a lot, to be sure. 

Murphy was more than happy to front those kinds of songs. Bellamy just wished they didn’t strike him a little sharper than they had before.

_“I need somebody and always  
__This sick strange darkness  
__Comes creeping on so haunting every time  
__And as I stared I counted  
__The webs from all the spiders  
__Catching things and eating their insides  
__Like indecision to call you_  
_And hear your voice of treason.”_

 

Clarke really just dug in there. Bellamy didn’t know where that stereotype came from that girls hated dissecting frogs because Clarke Griffin fucking lived for it. Fascinated, Bellamy could not take his eyes off her. She readjusted her safety goggles around her head. In a fashion show at MWHS, only Clarke could make laboratory setting safety equipment look natural.

“You’re not going to faint, are you?” Clarke was holding the scalpel but her attention wasn’t on the frog anymore. 

“No.” He sounded as offended as he possibly could.

“You had this weird look,” Clarke said. She stopped looking at him and turned her attention back to removing the heart.

Bellamy didn’t know why that annoyed him so much. And it bothered him that it annoyed him.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked suddenly.

Clarke’s crystal eyes flicked to the front of the room where Dr. Tsing was supervising Monty and Jasper. The two of them had a habit of misusing the Bunsen burners.

“Don’t you need this class to graduate?” Clarke asked.

That shouldn’t have surprised him. 

What was surprising was that she went to his house in the sticks, even if she was in the company of Raven Reyes. What was surprising was that it seemed that every weekend he had seen in her in some capacity or the other.

He couldn’t help but connect the dots that this seemed to start right after that Wells kid moved away. Bellamy noticed because he stopped getting detention so much, not because Clarke was catching his attention. Wells’ father had been the vice principal and Bellamy had a nasty habit of being caught bending the rules a bit. 

“Does my graduation status have anything to do with you?” Bellamy asked. 

It had been meant as a defense mechanism but Clarke only raised her eyebrows at him, unimpressed. 

“Well you’ve already flunked biology once—“ 

“None of your business, princess,” he replied. “And how do you know that? Your obsession with me is getting out of hand.”

“Your sister tells funny stories about you,” Clarke said seriously.

“Octavia—“ Bellamy started. Clarke and Octavia knew each other? For how long? Were they close? Did they talk about him a lot? Why did he care so much? He broke off the line of questioning. “You still didn’t answer my question. Or would your boyfriend get jealous?” 

Clarke looked blankly at him. She was so difficult sometimes. Girls used to seem so transparent to him. A lot of the times they just wanted to kiss him and tell all their friends about it. Clarke only stared at him. She was the one person who he could never really read. That bothered him. 

“I know your friend Wells would never dare break the rules.” Bellamy tried a different angle of provoking her. 

The moment he said it, he regretted it. A shield went up behind Clarke’s eyes. He thought she might be mad at him. But then at least he would know what she was feeling. Instead, she just laughed. It caught him off-guard.

“You really have a problem with everyone,” Clarke said, amused, “don’t you?”

“Not you.” Bellamy shrugged. His words hung heavily on the air. 

She never broke eye contact. He wished he could look away. Someone coughed loudly across the room. Bellamy reluctantly broke the contact first. He saw Jasper and Monty laughing across the room. He made a note to break into their lockers later.

“Fine,” Clarke sighed. “But you’re writing up the lab report.”

That actually made him a little relieved. “I’m better at writing anyway.”

“You’ll have to show me your stuff sometime,” Clarke said. She made it sound off hand. If Bellamy had the capacity to blush, he might have.

Bellamy knew Clarke could never really cut class, but he settled for cutting his own next period to accompany her to her lunch.

She seemed like an interior sort of girl. Not the type to hang out with the stoners out on the patio. Somehow, she seemed to be making exceptions about that. He didn’t know what to make of that so he just didn’t mention it. He held the door open for her and she accepted this random act of chivalry. But her hand brushed against his when he let it fall from the door. His skin sparked.

He never would have used that kind of language before. Suddenly Monty and Jasper’s laughing faces popped into his head. He really did hate those nerds.

“You know those could kill you,” Clarke said.

It took him a moment to realize what he had done unconsciously. This was generally considered the smoking patio for those of age (not that it mattered because most kids did it anyway.) He must have had some Pavlovian response to being on the patio. In any other setting, he wouldn’t have thought about lighting up around Clarke Griffin.

Not because he cared what she thought. Not even. He didn’t care what anyone thought. But it was too late to think about that now. 

“They _do_?” Bellamy asked, aghast. She should have expected such a reaction. “Wait. Are you sure?” 

“Pretty positive.” 

“You should really send out a memo,” Bellamy said. “Our government should hear about this.” 

Clarke just continued smiling. 

“You know I would kiss you right now but I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable with your moral stance against cigarettes.”

Clarke never batted an eyelash. “I wouldn’t want to be compromised.”

“So your response before was pretty vague,” Bellamy said.

Clarke eyed him carefully. “Regarding what?” 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He really just dove in there. 

“Why?” Clarke asked suspiciously.

“Just taking a census,” Bellamy said casually. “And it’s my imperative duty to find out the romantic statuses of all the pretty girls in Biology class.” 

“Guess you’re out of luck then,” Clarke said. She seemed to have given up on her front. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

“Finn Collins is a dickbag,” Bellamy said.

“I don’t know what that means.” 

“It means Finn Collins is an idiot,” Bellamy said. “That hasn’t changed since kindergarten.” 

“I’m a bad judge of character.” It was the first time she ever seemed to open up like that before.

“Can’t be that terrible,” Bellamy said. “You’re hanging out with the cool kids.”

“There’s only you here.”

“Exactly.”

 

_Will you come home and stop this pain tonight  
_ _Stop this pain tonight._

**_\--Blink 182_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliche song choice. I am really into Murphy being Tom Delonge and Bellamy being Mark Hoppus but that's just me.
> 
> I would really like to stop this from becoming a songfic but the songs mentioned are actually being played in the fic canon so let's all just pretend it's not lame and cheesy.


	5. Self-Esteem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Pleasure doing business with you.”
> 
> His voice melted sticky, gooey in her brain so she couldn’t get the words out for the rest of the night.

_I know I'm being used_   
_That's okay, man 'cause I like the abuse_   
_I know she's playing with me_   
_That's okay 'cause I got no self-esteem_

_**\- The Offspring** _

Raven was lucky to get out of the house that night. When Clarke wasn’t there as a buffer, her mother usually held onto her with all her might, as though those were good qualities for motherhood. It had been made clear to her from an early age that wasn’t the case.

Finn had made that easy. His parents had loved and accepted her like a daughter. The only person Raven really confided in about his betrayal was Clarke. Clarke was the only person who could understand. Finn made it easier by leaving them both alone.

At least that was what she thought. Not she felt this burden lying heavy in her womb. Her mother put on a good show, but it was clear having a kid in high school was not a recipe for success. Pimping yourself out for booze money was never where Raven wanted to go. She would have gone to that engineering specialty high school if they had the money. Or her mother even realized she had potential. Even without it, Raven would sure as hell make sure she was going to get out of this town. Money or no money. And she wouldn’t need Finn Collins to do it either.

The one good thing about him was that he had introduced her to things in their neighborhood that were as good as coping. When the Blakes weren’t housing block parties, there was actually a pretty good spot in the woods. No one privileged - not even Clarke - would know where that was. 

Unfortunately, there were some people that did have a tendency of showing up to their designated hang out.

“Why are you such a dick, Murphy?”

Not the most graceful greeting, but this wasn’t Raven’s first drink of the night. It was easier to forget the kid she already knew she wasn’t keeping. She still had to figure that part out. For now, she would be in the moment. In that moment, she really did not want to interact with John Murphy. She never had a strong desire to see him anyway.

_Beat it, Murphy_ was always ready on her tongue. But tonight, she didn’t say it. Tonight, she did engage. She couldn’t really figure out why. And even if it was an intrusive question, Murphy didn’t seem put off by it. There weren’t a lot of things that Murphy was put off by. They both had that in common. 

He raised his hands in surrender but that just made her angrier. She couldn’t hate Clarke. Clarke was beautiful and loved and didn’t even know Finn was a duplicitous cheating bastard. She couldn’t hate Finn. As much as she wished she didn’t, she loved him.

But Murphy? Murphy she could hate. _Hate enough to interact with him?_ That was complex and she had been drinking

“Mommy and daddy didn’t love you enough?” Raven asked, slurring slightly.

Murphy’s eyes grew cold. She could never really get over that. While Bellamy was hard when he had to be, he had to protect his sister and somehow, he was still approachable and at times even charismatic. Murphy was different.

A survivor.

_Just like you._ She shoved that thought away.

“I guess you’ll never know,” Murphy said measuredly. 

“Or maybe it’s just because your only girlfriend tried to kill herself,” Raven said. “I mean what does that say about a person, really?” 

Raven would never be afraid of John Murphy. He was just as fucked up as everyone else but without any cause to be. But nonetheless, when he walked towards her, she felt her space invaded.

“Screw you, Raven,” Murphy said.

That sounded familiar. 

“At least she didn’t forget to break up with me on her way to someone else.”

Raven was possessed. Shoving him against the wall was all she could do. She felt him flinched beneath her hands, ducking his head. She realized too late it was a defensive position. She didn’t care. All she wanted to do was hurt him.

But when she didn’t land a punch on him, that slow, easy smirk spread across his face. She found she couldn’t make direct eye contact. She just stared at his eyebrows. Her hands had grown slack and his hands burned across hers, extricating himself. 

“Raven Reyes looking down on me?” Murphy asked. “I don’t think so. Our mother’s are probably on the same pub-crawl as we speak. Is that what this is about?”

Raven slid away, having every intention not to have this conversation. It was her own damn fault, really.

“You could have just said so,” his voice low and mocking.

“Shut up, Murphy,” Raven said. But she still didn’t walk away. She knew that he understood that. He slinked through the darkness like a cat. She watched his movements as though preparing herself for an attack.

But Murphy never attacked her. Not really. He always waited to see what she would do first. Just like the other night. 

Not something she wanted to remember. But Murphy wasn’t about to let her forget. 

“Hey,” Murphy said, “you came over here, remember? I didn’t ask to be interrogated.”

“Yeah, you’re so irresistible,” Raven retorted.

Murphy shrugged. “You didn’t have a problem with it the other night. In fact, you seemed to finish pretty quickly.”

“Like you would know,” Raven sneered. “You’ve had what, one girlfriend?”

“And you’ve had…” Murphy said, pretending to count on his fingers. “How many boyfriends?”

_Two_ , Raven thought begrudgingly. But not a lot of people knew about Kyle. And he never really counted anyway. 

“Still having a hard time counting, Murphy?” Raven asked, unwilling to let him end up on top.

_Again_.

What she really wanted to do was twist the knife. But even that seemed to be playing right into his hands. How did Murphy suddenly become a manipulative mastermind? He was hanging out too much with Bellamy. 

There must be something in the water. Even Clarke was letting down her defenses. Not too long ago it seemed like it would be the two of them against the world – against men. Bitter gal pals until the end.

But she had heard that Clarke had been seen smoking with Bellamy and they could not stop making googly eyes at each other it was just downright disgusting. Now it was Clarke who was dragging her out to the bad parts of town, always to convenient places where Bellamy and Murphy’s shitty band would play. If she could understand one song they played, it would be a miracle.

Here she was instead, in the middle of the woods, shouts of drunk teenagers seeming farther and farther away.

“All you have to do is ask, Raven,” Murphy said. “I would definitely consider it. But you’d have to ask me nicely.”

Raven’s hands were around Murphy’s throat but he wasn’t shrinking away from her this time. She truly resisted looking down to see if he was getting off on this. She wouldn’t put it past him. His back his the tree with a thud and a dull groan.

She didn’t think about whether it was hers or his. 

“You tell anyone that we sex and I will rip out your jugular,” Raven warned.

With a flourish she propelled herself away from him and ran as fast as she could away from him. She always seemed to be running and he always seemed to be calling out after her. 

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

 His voice melted sticky, gooey in her brain so she couldn’t get the words out for the rest of the night.

* * *

 

Clarke saw Raven running across the street. For a moment, she was embarrassed. If Wells could see her now, giving Bellamy Blake a ride home. She still thought the way his hand brushed against hers at lunch.

She was such a stupid schoolgirl. She had been through this before. Boys didn’t think like that. It was obviously an accident. Bellamy always had girls crawling all over him that he wouldn’t think twice about That Time My Hand Hit Clarke’s Accidentally.

Wells had seen Finn for what he truly was. But by the time she realized it, Wells was gone and she just couldn’t bring herself to write to him about how heartbroken and betrayed she felt. Somehow, she didn’t think she deserved his sympathy. 

She would get it, of course. Wells cared about her and always had and always would give her the emotional support she needed. But it felt hollow. It wasn’t fair. It was better to receive his letters about how he was staying strong for his mother and he missed the times when they would just watch movies together and she would listen to his dull commentary on _mis-en-scene_. Whatever that was. 

She really missed him too. But this was even worse than the Finn debacle. This was Bellamy Blake. Wells barely had contempt for people but Bellamy had always been the exception.

_He just thinks he’s above rules, so arrogant, so cocky…_

So true. All of those things and more. But there was another side to him. He cared about his sister. He could be sweet and genuine. He was loyal to a fault. But then again, don’t most girls think they see behind the wall of the bad boy? Don’t they think they could change them? Bellamy was no different. And Wells would be able to see that.

Thinking about this made her brain hurt. When her father was still alive he would always point to the crease between her brows that meant her wheels were turning too hard. He had been right. It was best not to think about it anymore. She thought about Finn and looked how that turned out. 

It was better to chase after Raven. Beautiful, headstrong, confident Raven. The only person who she could really talk to. In this instance, she didn’t think bringing up Bellamy would be a good thing. Raven was going through her own shit and Clarke knew she could help her. Her mother always told her it was her nature to help others.

Raven was running and Clarke knew that wasn’t good. She pumped the gas and tailed Raven to the end of the street. Raven’s eyes were dark and defensive, the way they always were when she was around people she didn’t know. 

They softened as soon as Clarke opened the door. As per usual, they didn’t need to exchange words. Raven never gave too much thanks in any case. She knew she could take care of herself. She had since she was a kid. There was never a need to thank anyone else. But Clarke didn’t need thanks. She never needed it.

She just wanted to help. This must be the first time in her life that Raven realized that she needed help. That she couldn’t do this on her own. What was harder for her, Clarke was sure, was that Raven didn’t need to do this on her own. Finn had always come with string attached. He was the boyfriend. But Clarke gave her unconditional friendship. That had just been the deal going in. They wouldn’t hate each other for falling for the same bullshit. In fact, it was what had bonded them in the end.

“Out for a midnight jog?” Clarke asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.” That was a little cryptic for Raven, but Clarke never felt a need to push her. “And you?”

Clarke raised her eyebrows in that familiar look of _who, innocent me?_ Clarke was too smart to ever be truly innocent of anything, but she never seemed to realize that about herself. 

“You should hear what everyone at school is saying about you.”

“That makes me think I don’t want to,” Clarke said.

“Well it’s not any worse than what people have said about me.”

“Since when have you ever been this vague?”

“What are you doing with Bellamy Blake?” Raven cut straight to the chase.

Clarke couldn’t help but think Raven was avoiding the real obvious question of what she was up to, but she also find Raven’s line of questioning intriguing. She of course had no idea what she was doing with Bellamy Blake. But she hadn’t realized that was a question the entire school – nee, town – had as well.

“Am I not allowed to talk to him?” Clarke asked.

“There’s talking and then there’s _talking_ ,” Raven said. “You and I know that better than anyone else.” 

“We’re lab partners.”

“Oldest trick in the book.”

“Oh really,” Clarke said. “And what was it you were doing out there in the dark again?”

“So not the point,” Raven answered. She had been waiting for that one. Clarke could tell. “What is relevant is me having to watch you and Bellamy make googly eyes at each other in his garage.”

“ _Googly_ eyes.” Like Clarke had never heard such a thing. “Bellamy doesn’t make googly eyes.”

“And you would know?” Raven asked.

“I wouldn’t call myself an expert,” Clarke said. “But I don’t make googly eyes either.”

Raven’s laugh was a bark.

“It’s pretty obvious what you don’t want to be talking about right now,” Clarke said. 

“Then let’s not,” Raven replied. 

“You have to have a plan,” Clarke said. 

“Are you my mother?”

Clarke had to bite her tongue. “No.” She never really had mastered that particular skill.

“Okay then.” 

It was going badly.

“You must have some idea,” Clarke ventured. 

“What idea, Clarke?” Raven asked. “I am totally, utterly fucked. With both our combined brains, I know we’ve figured that out by now.” 

“So do you have an idea of what you want to do?”

“Well I’m not keeping it,” Raven said. “That’s for sure. I’m not going to end up like my mother.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that,” Clarke said. 

“Then what?” 

“The alternative,” Clarke said delicately. 

Raven was quiet for a moment. She was never the type to bide her time and think her words through. Clarke liked the silence. At least for now. It was comforting. 

“You think I have money for an abortion?” Raven asked. 

“We’ll figure something out,” Clarke promised. 

“We?” Raven asked. “This is not your problem, Clarke.”

“It’s your problem,” Clarke answered.

“That doesn’t mean you have to make it yours,” Raven said. “You weren’t married to the guy.” 

“Neither were you,” Clarke said. “You don’t have to carry his burden. We, two smart and capable young women will figure something out.” 

Raven cracked a sly smile. “Yeah, while you’re at it, figure out what you’re doing with Bellamy.” 

That shut up Clarke real quick.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to The 100 for being beautiful and heartbreaking that I want to write them in a fake high school situation. Also thanks to Ethan Hawke and the amazing film Reality Bites as well as the song that was also sung in it. Add It Up by the Violent Femmes.


End file.
